


Shooting Star

by videogamelover99



Series: A Different Form a Different Time [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, Gen, a day in the life of bill the human, based on flat dreams, bill isn't happy, honestly nobody's happy not even mabel, hopefully, human bill au, mabel is pure, the axolotl's poem, the beginning will come in soon enough, this is 6000 words of fluff, this is it, this is like smack dab in the middle, yep, you know that thing by doodledrawsthings on tumblr?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/videogamelover99/pseuds/videogamelover99
Summary: Bill tries to deal with the fact that he's not a triangle anymore. Mabel knits him a sweater.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Flat Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062122) by [PengyChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PengyChan/pseuds/PengyChan). 



> hELLO QUICK NOTE HERE. This is part of an au my friend doodledrawsthings on tumblr came up with. If you're confused but want to learn more, check out their page. Also this work is heavily based on Flat Dreams, to the point where it's basically a fan continuation. So it kind of makes it a fanfic or a fanfic? Fanficception. aNYWAY, ENJOY THE STORY.

“And this is the time DipDop and I were voted Best Dynamic Duo! Man, I can’t imagine not having my bro to count on!”

“Can we do something else.”

“Nope!”

The occupant of the kitchen chair groaned loudly, burying his face in his arms. “Tell me, Shooting Star, is TORTURING ME with POINTLESS HUMAN SENTIMENTS glued onto pieces of colorful paper some kinda elaborate revenge scheme you’re executing?”

“First, they’re not pointless. I’ll have you know I worked very hard on each of them! And second-” Mabel jumped up from her chair and smacked Bill lightly across the face. The demon recoiled with an half-annoyed half-startled snarl. “You’re being a jerk! So you get a frowny-face sticker.”

Bill slowly pried said sticker off his cheek, slowly ripped it in half with a disturbing satisfaction, and tossed the remaining pieces on the floor, his eyes never leaving Mabel’s. The demon silently got up, fixing the girl with a sneer before turning to leave. Well, that could have gone better.

Mabel frowned at his retreating back. “Hey, wait! I haven’t finished yet!”

“WELL I HAVE.” he called back over his shoulder before loudly slamming the kitchen door.

“FINE! BE A JERK.”

There was no reply.

Mabel blew a raspberry just as she heard the screen door slam shut, the demon himself probably half-way on the roof already. For the most part Bill avoided human contact like the plague, spending most of his time holed up in a random corner around the shack. The rooftop had become his personal weird hiding spot, where he frequently shouted insults at random tourists.

The first time he tried to climb up, gravity had rewarded the demon with a sprained ankle and a bruised side. Bill spent the rest of the day lying on the couch, cursing Newton and his apples while Mabel dug the freezer for an icepack and  Grunkle Stan grumbled in the corner about “idiot triangles falling from the sky”. That sure was a fun afternoon.

After a moment of hesitation, Mabel grabbed a bag of doritos and headed to the roof.  Bill was sitting on the edge, throwing pinecones at wendy’s drawn-out target. Most of the time he missed, hitting instead the pretty blue convertible parked below by some unfortunate tourist. Either Bill had terrible aim, or wrecking other people’s stuff was what he was going for in the first place.

After watching the demon dent the poor thing a minute longer, Mabel tapped him on the shoulder. Bill shot her a glare in return, but then his eyes fell onto the bag that the girl held out to him. The man gave it a wary glance. “Is that some kinda peace offering you’re making?”

Mabel shrugged, extending the snack further. The girl saw a brief moment of conflict in Bill’s eyes before he snatched the bag from her hand, viciously ripping it open and sending a yellow cloud of dried cheese and artificial flavors into the air.

“You’re welcome,” Mabel stated cheerfully.

“Meh,” Bill replied, digging through the bag.

“You know, you’re supposed to say ‘thank you’.”

“I’ll say THAT when the FONGOIDS stop creating TIME PARADOXES. THAT MEANS NEVER.”

Mabel responded with a pout, snatching back the bag. “Fine, then I’m taking this.”

“Hey!” Bill made a grab for the snack, but Mabel pulled her hand away just in time, extending it far beyond the edge of the roof.

“Well if you’re going to be all rude about it-”

“UGH. Alright, THANK YOU.”

She gave him back the bag. “See? Now was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

“You’re awful.”

“Thanks.”

“Ha! You said that for real this time!”

Bill sent another glare her way, which was kind of ruined when he stuffed a handful of corn chips in his mouth.

A calm silence settled between the two. Mabel even managed to take a few chips for herself, with less of a protest than usual. Progress. Though towards what, she didn’t know yet.

Mabel looked up at the lanky man sitting next to her, grumpily chewing on the cheese snack, and wondered why she was here in the first place. It wasn’t like Bill  _ wanted  _ to talk to her, and the twin wasn’t eager to hang out with him either. Being human didn’t change the fact that he tried to kill her and her brother  _ on several occasions.  _ For all the time Mabel spent pretending, she wasn’t stupid. Bill couldn’t be trusted, and there was no doubt in Mabel’s mind that the second an opportunity arose that would require him to backstab them, he would take it without hesitation.

Still, in the times Bill didn’t spend harassing Dipper and hapless tourists or making very disturbing transdimensional jokes that only he (and sometimes Grunkle Ford) got or just plain sulking about being stuck in a “useless skin puppet”, he looked...sad. Well, no, “sad” wasn’t the word Mabel would use in describing Bill Cipher. He looked-

_ Distracted _ . Like for once there was something he was thinking about that didn’t involve swollen eyeballs or revenge or insulting her family.

No, that was stupid. Mabel was obviously digging too much into it. Gee, she sure was starting to sound like Dipper, wasn’t she? Maybe it was time to take a break. Maybe knit another sweater. Come to think of it, she did have an absurd amount of yellow yarn that was begging to be used…

The sound of crumpling paper broke Mabel from her thoughts. She watched as Bill tossed the now empty bag into the bushes below. It got caught in the branches, awkwardly fluttering in the wind.

“That’s littering, you know.”

“Oh no! See how much I care.”

Mabel gave a pout, but decided to let it go. For now. She would make sure Grunkle Stan made him pick it up later. Besides, there was something else bothering her, something much more important.

“Why is it pointless?”

“Huh?”

I still struck Mabel hard how much emotion Bill showed with every phrase he said. She supposed having just an eye for a face made hiding his thoughts a lot easier, but now the confusion he felt was so obvious Mabel couldn’t help but stare. That was not the expression of a manipulative psychotic demon. Except it was, because Bill Cipher was making it.

Bill’s puzzled expression quickly turned into annoyance before her eye, which was also kind of fascinating to watch. His raised eyebrows lowered, eyes narrowing, the line of his mouth expanding in a scowl. “I’m waiting, kid.”

“Boop.” Bill’s nose was big and pointy and, well, triangular. Easy to reach, but not very fun to boop. The glare Bill was now wearing was definitely worth it, though.

“WELL, THAT WAS AS POINTLESS AS A CIRCLE.” The demon got up, only to be pulled back down by the arm with a very uncharacteristic yelp. He snatched his hand away, the renewed glare still present. For some strange reason ever since Bill came back from the dead, he had been really iffy on the whole physical contact thing. The evil triangle Mabel remembered did not respect the concept of personal space, but now he always wore those tacky black gloves (what was this, the victorian era? Mabel has seen war veterans that had better style than that), and stiffened whenever somebody as much as tapped him on the shoulder. At first, Mabel thought he was just expecting his butt to get kicked again, but now she felt like there was something more to it. Was he a germophobe?

“Do you know how TEMPTING it is to push you over the edge?”

Mabel just grinned, opening her mouth wide “GRUNKLE STA-MGH!”

“DON’T DO THAT.” Bill actually looked scared for a second, which was both kind of funny and kind of strange. Did Grunkle Stan really scare Bill  _ that much _ ?

Filing that thought away for later, Mabel pushed the gloved hand away from her face. “Fine, just don’t go yet! Why is it pointless? The Scrapbook, huh?”

Bill blinked at her for a moment, then laughed that familiar laugh that she often heard in her nightmares, and one that sent little spiders crawling down her spine. She really wished that he wouldn’t do that. “Kid, that thing’s not gonna last a half a century! You humans have a funny way of clinging to things that are destined to CRUMBLE INTO INSIGNIFICANT PIECES OF MATTER. IT’S LIKE WATCHING SISYPHUS PLAY GOLF, only EVEN MORE FUTILE! AT LEAST HE GETS SOME EXERCISE OUT OF IT.”

Mabel blinked, trying to sort through the barrage of words that were hurled at her face. Who the heck is sissy-foot? She spoke: “I don’t need it to last for long though.”

Bill blinked at her, his previous amusement gone and replaced again with confusion. “Huh?”

“I don’t need it to last for centuries, just for a while.” Mabel looked down at her glitter-covered hands, trying to find the right words. “I just wanna look back on it sometime later and...remember what it was like I guess.”

Bill snorted. “Oh yeah, thinking about the LONG ENDED EPISODES of your MEASLY, PATHETIC LIFE is a GREAT REASON FOR PUTTING THAT THING TOGETHER. If it wasn’t clear before that you’re WASTING YOUR LIMITED, PRECIOUS TIME, it sure should be now!”

Wow, when Bill got going, he somehow transcended into the next level of jerkiness. Mabel was starting to think that it was better when he didn’t talk.

“But that’s the point.” When she didn’t hear another annoying reply, she continued. “You’re right. Humans aren’t immortal or all powerful or whatever, and we do kinda have a limited time to do anything. But that’s what memories are for. They tell us that we DID do something. I-” she blinked, recalling the events of last summer, the ones she wasn’t really that proud of, “I’d rather keep the memories, even if the stuff I did wasn’t all that great, you know? At least I did  _ something.  _ And I know it. And hey, at least I can use them to not make stupid mistakes again.”

She finally looked up at Bill. And did a double take.

There was a strange expression on his face. Not quite sadness, not quite anger, but something in between. Mabel had never thought before that the demon could even express this kind of emotion. It wasn’t murderous rage or unhinged laughter or heavy insults. It looked almost...human.

...

Mabel slammed a box on the table, causing Bill to jump, clutching the book he was reading tightly to his chest. “SHOOTING STAR, WHAT THE HE-”

A glare from Grunkle Stan, who was sitting in his armchair with one of those creepy old man magazines.

“-eck.” Bill finished somewhat warily.

“Teach me.”

“What-”

Mabel pointed at the wooden box, the one with the black and white checkered pattern. She thought it would look better as pink and blue, maybe add a little glitter on top- Nope, improving the design wasn’t what she was here for, though the pattern did look really boring. “Teach me how to play this thing.”

The first reaction, a predictable one at that, was of course: “Why?”

That earned him a frustrated sigh. The girl folded her arms over her chest, glaring at the floor. “I’m tired of Dipper beating me at everything! So he’s the smart twin, okay, fine, but does that have to mean I lose at every game? So I figured ‘hey! I just gotta find someone who can teach me how to play this thing, and I’ll figure it out too’, right?” She looked back at the demon, looking hopeful.

“...Okay, why don’t you just ask Sixer then?”

“Oh, I did.” Mabel looked away in embarrassment. “But then Grunkle Ford started talking about B4 and math stuff and some guy named Nimzowich? And I kind of...fell asleep.” Bill let out a grating laugh, making Mabel’s cheeks heat up. “You don’t have to be a jerk about it!”

“Ha ha...ha...it’s just... how did he EXPECT TO TEACH YOU? CHESS THEORY? Pff, I bet he even started explaining what “middlegame” and “endgame” means.”

“Oh yeah…” Mabel blinked. “I don’t get it.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Hey!” She whacked him on the shoulder. “I told you to stop being a jerk!”

“In your dreams, kid.”

She blew a raspberry at him, before giving her biggest puppy eyes she could muster. “So can you teach me? PLEEASE?”

Bill gave her an unimpressed look. “Shooting Star, if you wanna manipulate me with your face, you might as well TURN IT INSIDE OUT AND COVER IT WITH PEANUT BUTTER. Now THAT would be adorable to watch.”

“Ew, gross.”

“Yep! So, why me, kid?”

“Well,” Mabel looked away again, “your attention span is WAY shorter than mine, but you’re still good at it, right? You gotta be! It’s like a rule of the universe something. Evil masterminds gotta be good at chess, or they’re like, not really masterminds.”

“As flattered as I am at that, you’re not getting off that easy. What’s in it for me?”

“...The knowledge you helped another person out?”

“Yeah, nope. Not accepting THAT as payment. EVER.” Bill visibly cringed.

“Fine,” Mabel rolled a few ideas through her mind, which included giving her last batch of Mabel juice (disaster), her secret stash of silly string (just no), and her favorite crayons (DEFINITELY NOT). Finally she settled on something with no destructive properties one-so-ever. “I’ll make you a sweater.” Bill opened his mouth, looking like he was about to reject, so she added: “With your face on it.”

Bill frowned, seeming to think it over again. “It has to be yellow.”

“Okay.”

“And I have to be a triangle.”

“Deal.”

“Alright then, deal.” He held out his hand.

Mabel glared at the black gloved appendage. “I’m not shaking on it.” The demon lowered his hand back down. “And you gotta teach me first.”

“Okay, hold you horses, geez.”

A few minutes later the two had arranged the chessboard, Stan was snoring in the armchair, and Mabel had already lost more than half of her pieces. The young teen chewed on her hair in frustration, glaring at the few pawns, king and knight she had left. “I don’t get what I’m doing wrong!” She pointed an accusing finger at Bill, who looked more and more smug by the minute. “You’re not teaching me anything! You’re just making me lose!”

“Yeah, that’s the whole point.”

“So you’re teaching me how to lose? Seems a little-.”

“Look,” Bill moved the board out of the way, giving Mabel an intense stare that made her slightly uncomfortable. “What’s the point of this game?”

Mabel looked away, toying with the fabric of her sweater. She was wearing the shooting star one, which she found herself putting on more and more frequently. Probably had something to do with a not-so-triangular jerk with that smug look on his face. “Uh, strategy and stuff?”

“Nope! WRONG!” Bill’s finger came a little too close to her eye. “The POINT,” he tapped her on the nose, “Is too know WHAT YOUR ENEMY IS THINKING. Which is MOST LIKELY SOME KIND OF BORING AND PREDICTABLE STRATEGY.”

Mabel blinked. “I don’t think anyone knows what you’re thinking.”

“EXACTLY!” Bill’s voice reached the volumes where even Stan, who slept like a rock most of the time, stirred in his armchair. Bill got noticeably quieter after that. “ _ I  _ don’t fall into the trap of making everything boring and predictable! Which is why no one’s ever beaten me!” Something about the way he said it made Mabel think that it wasn’t entirely true.

Mabel ignored that statement. For the time being. “So I can’t win. Got it. How are you gonna teach me then?”

“Your goal’s to win against Pine Tree, right?”

“Well, yeah-”

With one sudden dramatic sweep of his arm, Bill knocked off all the pieces on the board, rearranging them again to the starting point. “So I’M going to pretend I’m Pine Tree, and make boring and predictable moves, and YOU’RE going to try to figure out what they are!”

“Wait, so what was the point of that first game then?”

“Shooting Star, your growing frustration was a delight to watch.”

The girl glared at him, before throwing a nearby pillow at the demon’s stupid head. “Jerk,” she muttered as he laughed, dodging the projectile.

It took a dozen games or so before Mabel started realizing what was going on. The girl started predicting more and more moves that Bill would make, and preventing them sooner and sooner. It grew to the point where both of them had lost most of their powerful pieces, with just a few pawns and a queen or a knight left. Mabel was starting to feel quite proud of herself, only for Bill’s next move to throw her completely off track. The black queen sailed all the way to the opposite side of the board, landing in the corner behind Mabel’s two pawns.

“What.”

Bill grinned, propping his chin on his arm. “Your move, Shooting Star.”

A few moves later, and Mabel was looking at a definite checkmate. “You cheated.”

“Nope.”

“You said you were gonna play like Dipper! Dip Dop would never make a move like that!”

“Exactly.”

Mabel gestured at him to explain.

Bill rolled his eyes. “If Pine Tree wouldn’t ever do something like that, do you think he would ever EXPECT IT?”

Oh.

...

There were moments in Mabel’s life where everything that could go right did. Those moments were ones she cherished dearly, for they were few and far between. This was one of them. “CHECKMATE.”

Dipper stared, dumbfounded, at the chessboard. “Wha-how...That doesn’t make sense!”

Mabel jumped from the bed, and did a happy dance, one of her more energetic ones. “Eat your hat, bro-bro! ALPHA TWIN! ALPHA TWIN! ALPHA OOF-” She ran into their makeshift golf course and fell over. “AAND I’M UP!” She wasn’t just making Bill one sweater, oh no. She was going to shower him with them. They were all going to be big and fluffy and obnoxiously yellow.

Dipper was still staring at the chessboard like it was a particularly frustrating puzzle. “I don’t get it. There was no reason for you to move your queen.”

“Oh, and don’t forget our bet, Dip-Dop!”

Dipper tore his eyes away from the chess pieces and gave her a shudder. “Mabel, I don’t think that amount of sprinkles is even possible to-”

“TOO LATE! You promised!” Mabel practically flew down the stairs, struggling to contain her glee. Wait till she told Grunkle Stan! Wait till she told-

She ran into something tall, skinny and incredibly grumpy. “HEY, watch where you’re-”

Mabel screeched, and wrapped her arms around the figure, who now looked kind of terrified. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. 

“THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” She squeezed him by the middle, drawing out a choking noise.

“OKAY OKAY. Just don’t break this meat-sack, I still need it!” Mabel giggled, but loosened her hold a bit. “So I’m guessing you GROUND PINE TREE’S EXPECTATIONS INTO DUST AND SHATTERED HIS ILLUSION OF THE UNIVERSE AS WE KNOW IT?”

“...Well, I won the game.”

“Great job, kid. Now LET ME GO.”

…

Surprisingly, it took a while for Mabel to finish the sweater. Between visiting and catching up with her friends, calling Soos to see how his road trip with Melody was going, and working on her art project she promised she was going to make for Grunkle Stan’s display, the normally energetic girl was not finding enough time to really talk to Bill, nevermind uphold her end of the deal.

Dipper was still obsessing over his loss. He switched his usual mystery novels to chess instruction books, and whenever they talked he seemed to give her a weird look, like she was one of his rubiks cubes he needed to solve. Grunkle Ford spent most of his time in the basement, most likely to avoid the “obnoxious monstrosity that you decided to keep”. Whenever Mabel saw him, he looked more and more tired. She guessed that her nerdy Grunkle wasn’t really sleeping well. She voiced her concern to Stan, who replied with: “Let ’im mope for a while, kid. Trust me, the best thing we could do is to leave ‘im be. He’ll come outta his sulking eventually.”

Still, both Dipper and Mabel took turns to keep Grunkle Ford company. The two of them took time telling him about a creature they encountered, or Mabel’s crush of the week, or how Soos and Melody were doing from the sound of their frequent phone calls. Once in awhile their Grunkle would smile, causing the bags under his eyes to get slightly lighter.

But no matter how tired Grunkle Ford looked, there was no way it could match the way Bill arrived in the kitchen one morning and just collapsed onto the dining table. Dipper and Mabel, who were sitting next to him, stared.

“Aw geez,” Stan, who was manning the stove with his signature stancakes, looked over at the demon. “Tell me he isn’t dead. I don’t wanna bury another dead body anytime soon.”

Dipper poked Bill in the side. The man gave a groan, burying his head into his arms. “Well, not dead.”

“He just needs some Mabel Juice.” Mabel gave Bill a concerned pat on the back.

“NO.” The other two replied immediately.

“Mabel sweetie, giving that thing caffeine would be like opening the gates of hell on a Sunday.”

A muffled mutter came from the topic of their conversation. “I can still hear you, you idiot.”

“Good. Now shut yer yap.”

“Grunkle Stan! He’s just grumpy. You don’t have to be mean!” Mabel gave Bill another sympathetic pat on the back. The demon clawed weakly in her direction, but then gave up, his head collapsing back into his arms. Her Grunkle snorted, but said nothing, turning back to their (now slightly burned) breakfast.

The rest of the morning was rather uneventful, save for a stray gnome that somehow got into the pantry and the daily explosions from the basement.

It was 5 o’clock when Mabel had gotten back from Candy’s house. She kicked off her shoes, sped up the stairs, always skipping the bottom one, and collapsed on her bed, which was still covered in glitter and glue from yesterday’s attempt at making postcards. She turned on her side, her gaze wandering around the room lazily. Maybe joining Grenda on her afternoon run wasn’t the best idea. Sure, the twin always found energy to do practically anything, but her taller friend was a  _ beast _ . Mabel didn’t think it was even humanly possible to run a mile in 5 minutes.

The girl’s gaze was caught by the ball of bright yellow yarn, still sitting, untouched, in the cardboard box with the rest of her knitting supplies. For once, Mabel was all for a quiet evening of knitting and watching stupid sitcoms on TV. Hey, maybe Ducktective was still airing, even if it did end last winter.

Mabel grabbed the yarn and knitting needles and headed downstairs, planning to get a giant bowl of popcorn and snuggle up with Waddles in front of the TV.

…

“Wow, they really did have hints for the whole “twin brother thing” since the beginning!.” The quiet night of TV and knitting turned into a not-so-quiet rewatch of Ducktective with her brother, who showed up halfway through the first few episodes. Apparently, not only did Soos replace Grunkle Stan’s old TV with a brand new flat screen, but got a subscription for Webfilms as well, which was a blessing for anyone who wanted to marathon a continuous show. The twins (and Waddles) were halfway through their third bowl of popcorn when a zombie walked in on their movie night.

Oh no, wait, it was just Bill. For a second there Mabel was ready to grab the karaoke machine.

The ex-dream demon looked--well--tired was a pretty big understatement, wasn’t it? Exhausted to the point where even sleep wouldn’t be able to cure it was more like it. Bill’s eyes wandered from the blaring TV screen to the twins, who were sitting on the floor, the bowl of popcorn between them. Waddles was curled up against Mabel’s back, providing her with a very comfy pillow to sit against.

Dipper gave him a suspicious glare. Bill must've been  _ really  _ tired, because the gesture was not returned. Mabel elbowed her twin slightly, before giving the demon a what she hoped would come across as a welcoming smile. “Hey, Dip-Dop and I are rewatching Ducktective. Wanna join?”

Bill gave her a questioning look, the dark bags under his eyes lightening somewhat, before flopping down next to her on the carpet with a sigh. Waddles squealed from the sudden movement, darting from under Mabel’s back and disappearing into the kitchen. A sudden silence descended among the three. “He’s just jumpy, that’s all.” Mabel put in cheerfully. The other two came to a different conclusion.

“Wow, Bill. Even the pig doesn’t like you.” Mabel gave her brother an unimpressed glare. Bill, surprisingly, said nothing, his unfocused gaze directed at the screen. Another silence, this time a bit less tense, came around and Mabel found herself relaxing, her knitting needles once again falling into a consistent rhythm.

It didn’t take long for the silence to be broken.

“But it doesn’t make sense!”

“The main character is a duck, kid. Nothing about this sorry excuse of pointless human entertainment makes sense.”

“But that scene with the other twin completely contradicts the plot! There’s no way that’s not Ducktective, otherwise how would he know about the robbery?”

“Maybe he just has a little more brain cells than you, kid. Ha, And he’s a duck, too.”

“Come on guys, cut it out.” Mabel decided to intervene before Dipper tried an exorcism or something worse. “Bill’s right. This show’s about a detective duck, right? It doesn’t have to make sense.”

“Oh, so _ Bill _ is right.”

“Dipper-”

The argument was broken by a loud bang coming from the TV. Mabel turned to see the apartment building the main characters were previously in engulfed in flames.

“Oh, I love this scene.”

Dipper stared at her like she just grew two heads. “Mabel, you  _ hate _ character deaths. And you liked her a lot, too.”

“ _ Yeah _ , but the whole self-sacrifice thing was amazing. I mean, you said yourself, her “character arc” or whatever had to end tragically to give the other characters motivation, right? What better way to do that then to sacrifice yourself to give the others time to catch the bad guy?”

“Mabel, you were crying for like a week after it aired.”

“Shut it, Dipping Sauce, I still really liked her.”

The girl then noticed just how quiet Bill had gotten during their conversation. It was weird, considering that the demon was eager to jump in and argue every time a main plot point arose. “Hey, Bill...wait, are you okay?”

The demon’s expression was ridiculously similar to the one on the roof: His unfocused eyes gazed past the TV screen, mouth pulled into an unreadable frown.  _ Maybe he’s recalling last year. Maybe he does feel bad about that.  _ But as much as Mabel wanted to believe that thought, deep down she knew it wasn’t quite true.

Mabel tapped the lanky man on the shoulder. Bill blinked, as if just noticing she was there. He still didn’t look very awake.  _ Or maybe he just fell asleep. People can fall asleep with their eyes open, right?  _ If anyone could, then it was definitely Bill, if the dark circles around his eyes said anything.

The episode ended, and the three sat in silence for the rest of the season. It took Mabel a while to realize she had actually fallen asleep. Her hair was all in her face, knitting needles on her lap, and her head resting on someone’s bony shoulder.  _ Dipper,  _ was her immediate thought, but her brother was on her other side, and the shoulder seemed to be too high up to be his. Realization hit her, and she waited to be shrugged off, but Bill didn’t do that. That’s when she heard the conversation that was taking place right next to her.

“Get away from the kids, Cipher.”

“Wow, that was cold, Fordsy. I would say you look like hell, but, well, hell looks a lot better than you right now, ta be honest.”

_ Was that Grunkle Ford? _

“To creatures like you? No doubt.” There was a creak in the floorboards as Grunkle Ford came closer, and Mabel felt the shoulder under her cheek stiffen. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Well then. Enlighten me, smart guy, what exactly  _ am I _ doing?”

“I-This! Whatever mind games you’re playing, Cipher, leave the kids out of it.”

“Wow. Looks like you’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

“Oh, so you’re  _ not _ manipulating them? Please,” there was a pause as Grunkle Ford took an angry breath, “So helping Mabel with that chess game was out of the goodness of your heart now, was it?”

“No, we had a deal, and that was my end, so-”

“You had a WHAT.”

She felt Bill flinch. “Look,” surprisingly, the demon’s voice was surprisingly subdued. “Fez was there, Shooting Star’s fine, and she didn’t even let me shake on it! Ya know, ol’ Stanley seemed pretty okay with it. You’re the only one with a stick up his-”

“YOU-”

“Will both of you shut up already?” Grunkle Stan’s voice. “It’s 3 AM, the kids are asleep right in fronta ya, and you’re shouting at each other like some obnoxious geese.” Mabel had to stiffen a giggle at that.

“Stanley-”

“Go to sleep, Pointdexter. You look like Ma after Thanksgiving dinner. I’ll take care of the kids.”

There was a stiff silence, and Mabel imagined her two Grunkles glaring at each other across the room. Finally there was a sigh of defeat. Grunkle Ford’s heavy stride was heard all the way to the basement.

“And you.” Bill stiffened again. “No funny business, got it?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Fez.”

“Not gonna believe you ‘bout that anytime soon. And the sleep thing goes for you too, ya nutcase.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bill once again relaxed against her.

“I’m watching ya.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

Mabel heard Stan’s footsteps disappear around the corner. Bill released a relieved sigh, leaning a bit against her side. “Hey, Shooting Star? Your pretend sleeping is terrible.”

Mabel almost jumped at the thought of Bill knowing she was awake for the whole thing. Then she giggled. “How did you know?”

He gave her a deadpan look. “Dream demon.”

“Right...”

“Go to sleep, kid.”

“You should too, you know.” She urged gently. Clearly that sleeping problem was what bothered him most. A sleep-deprived, irritable Bill was not too good for any of them.

The demon didn’t answer, and the conversation ended as fast as it had started.

...

Mabel blinked awake for the second time in a row that night. The girl cracked an eye open, pushing her hair away from her face. She looked to her left, wondering what had woken her up, and saw that Dipper was missing, probably back upstairs. She looked to her right.

Bill was visibly trembling, his arms wrapped stiffly around his knees. His heavy breathing seemed to only speed up, coming out in hitches and hiccups, which in Bill’s voice sounded so out of place. Suddenly the girl had a very clear picture as to why the demon wasn’t getting enough rest.

“When I have a nightmare, I meow myself to sleep.” she whispered. Wait no. That just gave Bill mocking material to use later. And didn’t he already know this stuff, since he claimed that he had spied on them all the time?

Bill didn’t laugh at her. He jerked up at the sound of her voice, looking more like a deer caught in the headlights, somewhere between wanting to give her an angry rant and bolting away.

“I wanna help.” She added, hopefully to prevent him from leaving.

When Bill finally spoke, it was quiet yet almost hysterical. “I’m a being of pure energy. An immortal god with a lifespan bigger than this UNIVERSE, more knowledge than you could ever imagine. I watched stars implode and galaxies die out I  _ don’t need your help _ .” Didn’t sound like he really meant it. The line was delivered in a furious whisper, and Mabel had an impression that he was talking more to himself.

“Everyone needs help sometimes. Besides, you kinda look like none of those things at the moment.”

Bill let out an angry, choked breath. Mabel’s offhanded comment seemed to affect him a lot more than she had expected.

She remembered the nightmares that Dipper and she had last year when they got home, and how they took turns reassuring each other that they were fine, that Bill was gone, that she wasn’t trapped in a crazy world of rainbows and that Dipper was still alive, that they were okay, that they were home, and that they were  _ together _ . She remembered all the trouble she had sleeping after Bipper left that note for her to find in Dipper’s journal. She remembered that the one responsible for those nightmares was currently sitting right next to her, in the same position the twins were in all those months ago. Apparently, karma was a thing that existed.

Why was she helping him? Mabel honestly didn’t know. But it seemed the right thing to do, so she may as well do it.

Bill gasped as she wrapped her arms around his middle, his back stiffening out of surprise. The demon lifted his arms, and for a second Mabel thought he was going to push her off. He was probably thinking it, too, but Mabel beat him to the punch. “I meow myself to sleep. It helps.”

There was an angry snort. Bill lowered his arms in defeat. “Kid, there’s no way in the nine hells I’m doing that.”

“That’s fine. It’s my thing anyway. We just have to find yours.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe you can recite the periodic table or something. That’s what Dipper does.”

“Do I look like a nerd to you?”

Mabel glanced at his old-timey yellow vest and the infamous bowtie. Come to think of it, Bill kind of dressed like her geometry teacher. “Yes.”

The demon gave her a tired glare, to which she couldn’t help but snort. “Aw, don’t worry. I’ll get Grunkle Stan to take us to the mall sometime. Maybe then you’ll stop dressing like it’s the twenties.”

Bill gave her an angry grumble. “For your information, I have impeccable style.”

“Yeah, for a hundred years ago, maybe.”

“You’re lucky I like you, kid.” he grumbled, turning away.

When Mabel woke up that morning, Bill looked more rested than he had in weeks, and her little knitting project was almost finished.

…

“So...what do you think?”

“I think it’s a sweater.”

“I’m gonna assume that means you like it!”

Bill turned to look at his reflection in the mirror. He was really lanky, and the oversized, fluffy sweater Mabel had knit him made him look even skinnier. What a bean pole. Mabel was pretty sure she could lift him up from the ground without much effort. In her eyes, the demon was steadily beating Dipper in the level of wimpiness.

She also had to admit that it looked good on him. Not that it couldn’t. She was the one who made it, after all. The bright yellow yarn reminded her, in not the best of ways, of the triangle he used to look like. Yet there wasn’t any other color that screamed BILL as much as this one. It was bold, annoying, bright, and flashy. Just like its owner.

Bill was staring intensely at his own reflection. He did that a lot lately, almost in some sort of shock, like seeing his face staring back at him was- well, Mabel supposed it was jarring. The guy didn’t have a face before, only a weird eye/mouth combination (seriously, how did that work?) If Bill’s weird human state was strange for them, Mabel could only imagine what the guy in question must feel. She wondered what he was thinking right now.

“It feels...itchy.” Well then.

“Well if you don’t want it I’ll just take it back-”

“No!” Bill jumped away from her, clutching the sides of the fabric. “I mean-uh…”

Mabel snickered. What a dork. “Nah, just kidding. It’s yours.”

The man visibly relaxed, letting go of the sweater.

“You could say thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She punched him in the side. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What Scares a God](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050329) by [WhySoSeven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhySoSeven/pseuds/WhySoSeven)




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